


The Ghost of Akbadain

by MabelLover



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25059322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MabelLover/pseuds/MabelLover
Summary: Harold Dale isn't Randall Ascot.Or, how a simple refusal changes everything.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

Randall Ascot died when he fell.

There was no mistake. Randall Ascot drowned in the subterranean river and came up as a fresh corpse.

So why did Harold Dale receive Randall Ascot's letter?

Harold isn't Randall. Randall's memories are foreign to him, like watching a movie of someone else's life. The two men who share the same face - the two lost boys - they couldn't be any more different.

"What ya gonna do, boy?" Firth glanced at Harold, his spoonful of soup precariously balanced on his rapidly moving hand.

Harold put the paper down and got up. He walked up to the small desk on the side wall and picked up a pretty fountain pen.

"I'm gonna say no. What would I want revenge for?"

"I thought you wanted to know your past."

Randall sat back down on the table and spinned the pen in between his fingers. "And now I know."

He put the pen down on an empty sheet of paper and began writing.

_Jean Descole,_

_Although I'm flattered by your offer, I will have to refuse._

_Please find someone else to fulfill your plans._

_Harold Dale_

* * *

"Randall Ascot, uh?"

The young agent turned towards her boss, who was looking through the files with interest. She nervously fidgeted with her hands as she awaited the man's evaluation of her work.

"And you think that he lives in this Craggy Dale place now?"

"Yes," she answered, "I've visited it and he looks like an older version of the boy in the picture."

"Someone who went to Akbadain... and with Theodore, no less. Tell me, was _he_ there as well?"

The agent looked up when her boss took off his sunglasses, revealing red eyes. "I caught him entering the village when I Ieft. In the Sycamore disguise, of course."

The boss pinched his nose. "So we'll have to snatch up Ascot before he can. Call Swift here."

"Yes."

The agent turned around and jogged up to the exit. She opened the door, but before she could leave the boss spoke up.

"And Dove? Good job."

Dove turned her neck to look at him, hand still placed on the door handle.

"Thanks, Boss."


	2. Chapter 2

Ever since Henry began the search for Randall, he received many, _many_ requests by archeologists, geologists, historians and the like to allow them into Akbadain. Many teams went in and out of the ruins, documenting the mazes and traps, alongside the search groups that always failed.

The ruins were mad.

Every room, they’d find old mechanical mummies broken inside of holes, or deactivated by the lack of use. There was even one chamber where they’d been clearly torn apart with old swords.

Some mummies still worked. They spinned around, faster than what Henry could see, their sword cutting the fabric of his shirt and drawing out a little bit of blood.

The man with him cut those mummies even faster than the machines could react.

Henry had had a few reservations when a man dressed as extravagantly as Jean Descole one day appeared in his office, claiming to know how to find Randall, in exchange for the Mask of Order. Henry first thought him mad, but then the man took a crumpled letter from under his cloak.

Although the signature bore a different name, Henry would recognize the handwriting anywhere. He agreed to accompany the man.

“Darn it! Those mummies… Ledore, make yourself useful and solve the puzzle on the door!”

Henry hastened to get to it. There were nine tiles, mayhap if he lined them up to make a square…

Descole pursed his lips in annoyance. Another mummy spinned up to him, but he dodged to the side, grabbing the mechanical arm with his hand, stopping the spinning mechanism. He slashed with his sword and the mummy fell to the floor.

“Just one more–!” Henry felt his sleeve being cut and quickly fell to the floor, avoiding a fatal cut by a mummy.

Descole turned around.

“Ledore!” He threw his sword and it pierced the mummy’s belly, the force throwing it off-balance. Henry quickly grabbed it and threw it against the wall, damaging the inner components. It laid unmoving.

Henry breathed heavily. “That was the last of it?”

“Yes,” answered the masked man. “Now, quickly open the door, won’t you, Ledore?”

* * *

They stood before a chasm. A man-made bridge connected it with the other side. It’d been made by the original searching team, back when Henry first entered Akbadain. On the other side, they didn’t find the body they’d expected, but rather a treasure that Henry had felt too guilty to claim, even if it was to save for Randall. Angela had looked at him with unshed tears and an iron will and took it with her own hands.

He’d expected Descole to show him some secret passage, some way for Randall to have escaped, but the man simply looked down the chasm, his aura surrounded by unknown grief. In some weird way, it reminded Henry of when Hershel came back to Stansbury, quiet and alone, his voice lost except to say those damning words.

“Are we going to cross the bridge?” asked Henry. He sneezed. All the dust that had accumulated over the years was bothering him. It made him wish that he could somehow clean these ruins.

“No. We are going _down_.”

Henry gaped at the man. “Are you sure?”

Descole took the supply bag from his back and motioned Henry to do the same. His bag had only a very, very long end of rope. “There is a river down there,” he began to fix the rope, “and I promised to show you how Ascot survived.”

Henry nodded, occupied with his knot.

* * *

They ended up walking in silence along the river. Henry’s feet ached and his back hurt from the backpack and he could practically _hear_ Monte D’Or’s businessmen hollering at his ears, demanding an explanation for all of those missed meetings.

And Angela would kill him for making her deal with them.

But the rooftops of a village and his own imaginings of Randall, amnesiac and alone, waiting for his past, made him carry out those last steps. Just a few more and he’s see the person he’d been longing for these eighteen years…

The smoky rooftops of that village…

“Shit!” Descole began to run towards the village, dragging Henry with him. “Run, you moron!”

The fire was suddenly very visible. Henry could only rely on his leftover adrenaline from all of those life-threatening situations before, but it seemed that Randall’s safety was more important than his own life, for he ran faster than ever before.

The villagers were panicking, bringing out buckets of water to try and put out the fire on a house. There were shouts everywhere, and an older man pointed this person and that group to certain functions.

“You! Village chief!” Descole was up to the old man in a second. “What happened to Harold Dale!”

The man brushed his fingers through his dense moustache. “The kid was talkin’ with this girlie, right’o? The lass that has been ‘round for a while, chattin’ inside the house. And then the fire began.”

Henry paled. He turned around to the flaming house and the panicked villagers. He grabbed a fallen bucket of water and quickly ran to help.

He just caught the last bit of the conversation.

“That lass had some weird clothes. Looked like an army gal, but in blue and with sunglasses. Ha! Who wears sunglasses at night?”

* * *

Jean threw another book against the wall.

“Fuck-”

His plan had failed. Targent got to Ascot before he could! Now they would be one step closer to the Azran Legacy.

“Fuck!”

Raymond picked up the books and papers that began to litter the floor. “What should we do now, Master?”

Jean’s hand went up to his mask. He removed it and let it slowly fall from his hand, like dripping honey. He blinked his red eyes, unaccustomed to the bright light without the shield of the eye cover.

Hershel Layton’s face glared at him from across the room. _Professor of Archeology discovers Ancient Island!_

The man sighed. He really hadn’t wanted to give in so easily.

“I have a letter to write, Raymond.”

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe I'll finally make a multi-chapter fic? Who knows? Certainly not me lol


End file.
